


any other lips

by MsSir



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, declaration fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24445978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsSir/pseuds/MsSir
Summary: The first time we kissed, I knew I never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again.-Valerie,V for Vendetta
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 13
Kudos: 164





	any other lips

Miranda sat her glass of wine, the second, so far, on the end table before curling herself back into her favorite chair. The only lights in the room came from the street lamp outside her window and hall; it was more than enough to illuminate her thoughts and her glass as she reached for it. Thoughts that circled back to Andrea before they settled. She was in _deep like_ with the younger woman and had been for quite some time; curiosity had shifted to fascination and it was in a place that could easily shift into something more. She'd accepted that, was no longer caught off guard by her desire to kiss the brunette; she'd trained her reactions to the daydreaming down to "guilty pleasure" levels. What still surprised her—the stone in her thoughts—was the type of kiss featured in those daydreams. Miranda's history with kissing, and mediocre partners, left it a calculated event, born of intent. It made imagining leisurely kisses (rife with cliches, just for the sake of the connection) feel foreign yet enticing.

She wanted to experience kissing Andrea and every time she made eye contact with Andrea she believed the younger woman wanted the same thing.

Miranda's divorce was finalized, and had been for almost a week; she was free to pursue whomever she wanted but thought it'd be prudent to wait until Andrea completed her tenure at _Runway._ However, an overheard conversation from earlier that day made her question the wait.

She was making her way back to her office when she passed Nigel's cracked door and a rather quiet exchange managed to reach her ears and caused her to pause.

Nigel wasn't whispering, but his voice wasn't meant to leave the room. "You aren't the first assistant to become infatuated with Miranda. Just be careful," his voice picked up a fatherly tone, "it sounds like you might be falling into something deeper."

Andrea sighed, it was full of melancholic longing. "Fallen."

Miranda didn't stick around for the rest of the conversation, but the words stayed with her, replaying themselves and leading her to that first glass of wine. The second glass had been slowly drained as she failed to decide if she should act now or wait the three months as planned.

She had just set the empty glass down when she heard the front door open followed by the sound of Andrea's heels against the wooden floor. She closed her eyes as the brunette disarmed the alarm and allowed the sounds to draw the scene in her imagination. Behind her eyelids she watched Andrea deposit the dry cleaning into its designated closet. She saw Andrea make her way down the hall so she could place _The Book_ on its table. Her eyes slid open when the sound of movement then stopped.

Moments later the house was still quiet, even as Miranda stood. There was nothing for almost a minute, then Andrea took a few more steps and Miranda could tell she was not headed towards the door. The idea pulled the older woman to the doorway, silent and knowing she'd remain unseen.

Two more minutes passed without a sound. Miranda couldn't fathom what was going on but the moment she decided to say something was the same moment Andrea did.

"Please."

The word was soft, spoken on a breath, yet the weight of it, the yearning in it's vowels pulled Miranda out of the living room and into the hall.

Andrea's eyes went wide at the sight before she closed them, stiffened her spine, and pulled her shoulders back. When she opened them again there was conflicting hope and fear in their glassy shine. Andrea smiled, small and dull, as she toyed with the hem of her shirt, then she shifted her focus to the floor.

Miranda watched and understood the bravery. Even if all else had to wait, the kiss should not.

Decision—finally—made, Miranda quickly moved into Andrea's space, causing the brunette to blink and slightly sway. When she reached out, intent on holding Andrea's face in her hands, there was an almost flinch that caused her to pause, even as Andrea's hands landed on her hips. Still, she slid her fingers into the brown tresses, her hold light but unwavering. She met Andrea's eyes for a long moment before lowering her vision to her lips. When her eyes returned, brown was almost black and full of surprise.

The hold on her hips tightened a bit, prompting her to speak, but her words were more air than sound, "Can I—"

Andrea's mouth fell open, she said nothing, then nodded under Miranda's hold.

They moved together, without hesitation, erasing the space between them. They fell into the kiss the way one might sink into a bubble bath after a long, trying day. But while Miranda could, quite accurately, envision the relief, the pleasure, the warmth of a good bath, her imagination had been lacking, bound by experience, when it came to kissing Andrea.

She was surprised by the softness, the feel of Andrea's lips and movements, as well as the press of their bodies so close. It distracted her from the intent of reassuring the younger woman and encouraged her to think only of the feel. She had no idea a kiss could create a type of ringing in her ears that changed with the angle of the kiss (she'd later wonder about it's relation to fireworks). She had very little reference for the gentleness of Andrea's grip on her waist or the fingers that moved to tangle in her hair. Miranda's imagination didn't include her body's reactions to Andrea's sighs and moans. It didn't account for how deeply mental and emotional the physical connection would feel. And it definitely didn't include sensations that could make her momentarily forget her own name.

Then, like all things, the kiss came to an end, the connection between their lips shifted and reemerged by way of their foreheads. The only disturbance to the sounds of their matched breathing was Andrea's foot returning to the floor.

Miranda had the time and taste to understand Andrea was in love with her and that she wanted to love her back. Neither of these thoughts, however, let her ignore that certain things needed to be taken care of first. She pulled her head back, allowing for eye contact, and the disappointment in her being was clear in her voice, "Andrea—"

The brunette opened her mouth to speak, defense and pleas ready, her hands slightly tightening around Miranda, but a small head shake silenced her.

"—once you are employed elsewhere, we will, um, revisit this," she cleared her throat, "conversation."

Andrea's face transformed and she smiled, large and full of so much hope it made Miranda blink as she pulled the other woman into a tight hug. Their hold on each other shifted to accommodate the embrace and Andrea's nose took up residence at the base of Miranda's neck.

Miranda was amazed at how content she was to remain quietly in Andrea's arms, but when she felt the gentle press of lips against her skin she stepped back, breaking the embrace. "I have work to be doing," she gestured toward _The Book_.

"Yes, Miranda," was spoken through Andrea's smile, but she didn't move or break their eye contact until Miranda lifted an eyebrow.

Miranda watched, unmoving, as Andrea turned on her heel and moved toward the door. She watched as the alarm was set, as the door swung open, as Andrea paused over the threshold and looked back. Their eyes met again, giving birth to smiles matching in sentiment—if not in size—but the alarm system didn't encourage lingering and sang Andrea's exit.

Miranda stood there, eyes on the door, thoughts distant, heart large, and fought the urge to touch her fingers to her lips.

* * *

Thank you XV, for your time, help, and commas.


End file.
